


her heart resembles snow

by orphan_account



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bastard!Lyanna, F/M, Family Dynamics, Family Loss, Grief/Mourning, No Robert's Rebellion, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2017-12-16
Packaged: 2019-02-13 00:55:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12972180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Lyanna had heard people whisper - for that is what bastards do: hear things - that Lyesse might not make it out of the fever still breathing. Others wonder what might happen with the alliance between Stark and Targaryen.An AU where Lyanna Snow is Rickard Stark's bastard and when her trueborn sister Lyesse dies she must take her place in marrying the Crown Prince.





	1. A Death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The idea of Bastard!Lyanna isn't actually mine, to be honest. I got it from (the ever wonderful) solitariusvirtus’ fic ‘[Into Motion’](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5772067/chapters/13302121). 
> 
> Also, I would like to apologise for not updating my fic ‘[all for freedom and for pleasure’](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12857415/chapters/29362896), I lost a bunch of files on my laptop where All my plans and such for that fic are, so yeah. Not good. (Hopeful I’ll get a new laptop for Christmas??)  
> (Just changed the chapter title!)

There was a tree in the godswood which Lyanna had been climbing as long as she could remember, not the heart tree of course, she wouldn't disrespect the gods so much as to climb over them, but one a similar size and shape.

She has her special things stored up there, for she knows none shall bother going up there. Lyanna had spent many a time up there, reading and eating, laughing and crying, when she felt there was no where else to go. (And, as a Snow, there was little she could go.)

Lyanna is there now, eating an apple little Ben got her earlier, reading one of the books she had managed to sneak from the library the previous day: the story was of Brave Danny Flint, who disguised herself as a man to join the Night's Watch. Danny was a hero of Lyanna's, but what young woman wouldn't want to be like adventurous, courageous Danny? Only fools, surely.

Often it is quiet in the godswood during midday, that is why Lyanna comes here at that time. So when she hears someone come in, she has reason to be surprised. At first she wonders if it is some children coming to play, but they almost always play in the yard, or the barely forested area just outside the godswood.

She doesn't expect it to be Ned Stark, one of her half-brothers. He went off to the Eyrie some ten years ago and barely came back, even though he was eight-and-ten and his years of fostering with Lord Arryn were over.

Ned doesn't look at her as he kneels before the heart tree, quiet as ever, when he asks to her, "How do you fare, Lyanna?"

"Well enough," she answers, marking her page and sitting the book beside her other things, hidden in the hole in the tree. "Better than our sister."

"That's not too hard," Ned says. Lyanna is surprised - both at the sarcasm and coldness to his voice: Ned wasn't particularly warm, with anyone really, but he was never cruel, not to Lyanna anyway, despite her lack of a true name. "I apologise...it was a long ride here and Maester Walys isn't certain Lyesse's health shall improve."

Lyesse was a year younger than Ned, a year older than Lyanna. She was pretty and confident and smart - and trueborn - so, she was all Lyanna wished to be. Lyesse was their father's special child, everyone knew as much, and her sudden fever seemed to affect Lord Rickard almost as much as it did Lyesse.

Lyanna had heard people whisper - for that is what bastards do: hear things - that Lyesse might not make it out of the fever still breathing. Others wonder what might happen with the alliance between Stark and Targaryen.

From an early age Lyesse had been betrothed to Mad Aerys' son, Crown Prince Rhaegar. Everyone knew that, for whatever reason (some said prophecy and other believed it was the voices in his head) Aerys wanted an alliance with House Stark despite never meeting the girl he wants to be the next queen - his son's queen.

Mad Aerys specifically wants an alliance that will effect Rickard Stark, whom the king's thinks has become too ambitious, what with Brandon's betrothal to a Tully and Ned's fostering with Lord Arryn.

"Do you think she shall live?" Lyanna only just hears Ned ask. It sounds as though he asked himself more than anything but Lyanna tires to comfort him.

"Lyesse is as stubborn as the gods themselves," Lyanna assures Ned, "our old god's will need to come down to the earth again if they wish to have Lyesse; you and I know it to be true."

Ned turns to look over his shoulder at her, the smallest of smiles on his face. "Yes...she so liked to fight."

"Likes, not liked," Lyanna reminds him, in a kind but casual enough tone. "Speaking in past tense will help none, including you and Lyesse."

Her brother nods, finishing his prayer before standing. "You are wise, Lyanna."

"I am a bastard," she says easily, "to make it anywhere with all these lords I must be either pretty or wise. I choose the latter."

"A smart choice," Ned tells her. "Are you coming to see Lyesse later, she might need some of your wisdom."

What could a bastard know that a pretty, perfect trueborn daughter wouldn't? Well...that's hardly true: Lyanna had a bastard's bravery and a Snow's smarts - as her fellow natural born Northerns said. Every bastard had courage and intelligence, far different from the kind that lords and ladies like Ned and Lyesse might ever learn.

Just as they know thinks I shan't ever know, that I have no use of knowing. The chance of Lyanna twirling in a gown at a masquerade, or wearing a tiara while eating with at least a dozen forks is slim to nothing.

"Perhaps," Lyanna agrees. "I shall see you at least later, Ned, though I will try to see Lyesse." More for you than myself, she doesn't add.

"Good," he says before walking off, no doubt to see Lyesse, or his mother, Lady Lyarra.

* * *

Lyanna does go to see Lyesse that night, but her sister is in a deep sleep -in fact, for a single fleeting moment Lyanna wonders if she is dead. But she isn't, thank the gods, but perhaps it would be a small mercy if she was, cruel though it was to think. Lyesse's chambers were very warm, the air stuffy, so much so it was almost difficult to breath an no one would open the windows in fear of her condition worsening, as though it were even possible: Lyesse was very pale but oddly enough, she was practically burning underneath her blanket.

There was a slight green tinge to her face and she looked to be in so much pain, even sleeping. Lyanna wonders why the gods would do this to Lyesse - who had ever followed them and their rules, had always done as everyone told her, she knew the histories of the North and all the stories and legends, from those told by the Wildlings in the Lands of Always Winter to the odd tales of the crannogmen.

 _She is more loyal to you, to the North than anyone_ , Lyanna wants to tell the gods, _why should you wish do harm one of your own?_

Before she can get her answer, Lady Lyarra comes into the room, past the four guards father had put in front of Lyesse's room - honestly, Lyanna prayed that Lyesse lived just as much, or even mayhaps more, than everybody else but her father was far too overprotective; besides, its not as though Lyesse would ever go down without a fight, she wouldn't ever let something so simple as death stop her - and the Lady of Winterfell looks little surprised to see Lyanna there.

Lady Lyarra has always been kind to Lyanna, treating her as a mother would her child, despite Lyanna being born because her father wasn't loyal to Lyarra. Her stepmother never held it against her and for that Lyanna loved her, perhaps as a mother even - especially with Lyanna's true mother having died when Lyanna was all of six; Vanessa Poole passed of a fever, oddly enough. Lyanna hopes her sister doesn't die the same fate as her mother.

"I did not expect to find you here, Lyanna," Lyarra says in that forlorn voice she had had since they found out how awful Lyesse's health truly was.

"Well, I was just leaving," Lyanna tells her respectfully. Lyarra might well be like a mother to her but she truly is Lyesse's mother...even if Lyanna were her trueborn daughter too, she thinks Lyarra should have time alone with her daughter.

Lyarra shakes her head. "Yore presence is not unwelcome, child, it never could be."

Lyanna smiles at that, then bows her head as she stands. "Thank you...I was just leaving though, I think I might go pray for Lyesse's health."

"I would be most grateful for that, Lyesse would too, I think," Lyarra sits down in the seat Lyanna has given up for her and puts a hand on her daughter's cheek, the saddest smile Lyanna is sure she has ever seen upon her stepmother's very pale face. "She shall live," Lady Lyarra whispers, whether to herself or Lyanna or Lysesse, the bastard girl is unsure.

"I shall see you at dinner," Lyanna says polietly, and curtesies before leaving the room. She isn't sure if Lady Lyarra hears - she appears to be in a world entirely of her own.

* * *

It is later that night when Lyanna is readying for the feast by brushing her hair with a comb with belonging to her mother - in fact, it is one of the few thing's she has that were Vanessa's as a girl - that a maid comes in, with a sadness so obviously from grief that she needn't speak before Lyanna _knows._

"Lyesse has died, hasn't she?" Lyanna says, proud of how little her voice shakes.

The maid - Jenna, Lyanna is sure she is - merely nods. Then, forcing herself to stand tall, she says, "I am afraid so..." my lady, she almost says but Lyanna isn't a lady so Jenna trails off. "And, when you are able, Lord Rickard hopes you might visit him."

"Thank you for telling me," Lyanna thanks her calmly, even as her insides are twisting, her heart burning and her mind screaming.

Jenna nods, then bows her head. When she leaves Lyanna waits a few moments before putting down her comb. She looks down at her hands to find them shaking and she cannot steady them at all.

Why would the gods do this? Why take away the one who was ever loyal to you, who wished to stay in the North forever but would always do her duty even if it meant going South for good...there are so many who aren't loyal, who have sinned - Lyesse isn't one of them. Lyanna decides then that she doesn't trust the gods anymore, not nearly so much as she once did.

When her comb goes flying through the air, hitting a painting that then crashes to the ground, allowing some books to topple over, Lyanna is quite surprised she threw it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the lack of R/L - it will come later, I swear!
> 
> I don't know how regularly this will be updated, I just wanted to get this idea out...


	2. A Funeral

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The lords and ladies great and small come, whether it be from Winter Town or Bear Island, for the death of a Stark isn’t something easily taken by anyone.

It takes Lyanna nearly an hour to ready herself to see her father. She cannot begin to imagine what he might want with her.

 _I am bastard brave_ , she keeps telling herself before rounding the corner, _whatever comes I shall face with the honour of a person with the blood of kings and with the instincts that come with my last name._

Her father is there, holding a letter, by the looks of it. It takes Lord Rickard awhile to realise he isn't alone - he was sort of looking into empty space. "Lyanna, I am happy you came."

"I doubt ever we shall be truly happy again, father," Lyanna says bluntly, truthfully.

Lord Rickard nods, looking defeated. Lyanna distantly remembers sitting with Brandon, Ned, Lyesse and Benjen, listening to Old Nan's tales of men fighting in the War of the Ninepenny Kings.

There had been three lions, she'd said, one brilliant, one loyal, one hateful, but each as beautiful as the sun coming up after an especially bad winter night. Lyanna knew who these men were now: Tywin, Kevan and Tygett Lannister.

Old Nan spoke of two fish two, the elder a leader, the other a follower, loyal to his last breath. Their names were Hoster Tully and his brother, Ser Brynden, Ned had told her. Now, Brandon was to wed Lord Tully's eldest girl soon.

Other men had fought too - a young stag with his dying father; a dornish prince, who was barely a squire yet; a dragon prince, looking altogether nothing like the first dragon king.

But Lyanna had always been far more interested in the wolf more than anyone else. The wolf who had come a continent to help his fellow men from defeat, the wolf who had fought and nearly died too many times to count all to help strangers, as any good and honourable man would so. To see that brave wolf look so defeated now...it _hurt_ Lyanna.

"You speak truly, Lyanna," her father agreed, running a hand through his greying, thinning hair. Once, Lyesse had said that soon enough their father's hair would be as white as the snow freshly fallen, all in good fun, of course. That was Lyesse's way: humourous but polite.

Lyanna cannot think of her sister...not right now. She cannot say anything in fact - a rare thing for her, Brandon might say.

Her father doesn't mind her silence, yet it doesn't help his grief and sadness etched upon his face. "Unfortunately, this is not where the bad news ends." Her father sighs, looking pained. "A moon ago, I wrote to the king so as to tell him of Lyesse's condition and what might happen to our alliance if she were to...well, die. His reply came barely a week ago but I didn't read it for that was when Lyesse was...when she was worsening but Walys convinced me to read it now, so as to take my mind from Lyesse, and, gods, Lyanna, I think you'd be better reading it for yourself."

If it pains her father to tell her then Lyanna can only begin to imagine what the king wrote. Perhaps he decided to come and burn down Winterfell in rage, as though it were their faults that Lyesse couldn't marry the prince and give him future kings.

Lord Rickard passes her the letter and Lyanna reads it.

_Lord Rickard of Winterfell_

_News of your daughter's condition upsets me much. Yet, the pact of ice and fire must stand. I have been told you have a bastard girl, perhaps the Snow should like to become a Targaryen?_

_King Aerys Targaryen, the First of His Name_

Lyanna gets one thing from this: the king wanted a Stark-blooded girl for his son and with Lyesse gone...

"The king wrote you this?" Lyanna asks, sounding and feeling quite angry because anger was easier than sadness, than shock, than fear. Even so, she had reason to be angry: did the king not know that the Starks had been loyal to the Targaryens for near enough three centuries, even after they took the crown that they'd help for over eight millennia, that they had created and kept through hundreds of winters and far more deaths still.

Surely they were worthy of more respect that this, of a letter that covered a quarter of the page at least! _Gods_ , Lyanna thinks, rather annoyed.

Her father shakes his head. "Well...this is what the king wrote me but the queen had a letter attached, mainly apologising for her brother-husband's rudeness, wishing us luck for Lyesse's health but essentially...she said much the same as the king, even if she was kinder and used fancier words."

"I cannot be queen, father, I cannot," Lyanna says, hating how weak she sounds.

"Come here," her father says, standing. Lyanna gets up from her chair and hugs him for longer than ever she remembers. She isn't just completely confused and angry over her apparent engagement and the king's disrespect but she also grieves, for Lyesse obviously, and for the childhood she can feel is ending, and with it her innocence too.

 

* * *

 

 

Before they worry over Lyanna and the king, Lyesse must be honoured. The lords and ladies great and small come, whether it be from Winter Town or Bear Island, for the death of a Stark isn’t something easily taken by anyone.

Everyone knows how utterly loyal the North is to House Stark –it’s something Lyanna has been taught many a time, in lessons with Lyesse and Ben, or when a man loyal to her father promised to wed her or have her wed her sons, despite her bastard name, to show thanks to her father for one thing or another, though usually it was just because her father and she were Starks. That was more than enough for some, though.

Still, Lyesse was special. She had gone with Brandon some of his trip around the North for his coming of age, so he might know his future kingdom and people and they him and utterly charmed the little of the North that didn’t already love her. Lyanna remembers all the men who had written to father about betrothals between their sons and Lyesse, some even outright asking father about the mtter at some feast or event.

Lord Goren of Bear Island had wondered after a marriage between Lyesse and his son Jeor, who was almost a decade older than Lyesse and betrothed already! Another hopeful lord had been Rodrick Ryswell, who had fostered Brandon before, and seemed to like the idea of wedding Lyesse to his heir, Roger.

These requests and others liked them had entertained father and Lyarra, Lyesse too, but none had ever really been considered when Lyesse had been betrothed to Prince Rhagear since she was five.

Lyanna doesn’t want to think of the Targaryens today though, so instead she looks around the godswood. Everyone wears black, including her, and all the ladies have their hair tied back as women always do at Northern funerals, as a way of honouring the dead. Many men have trimmed their beards, as well. Her father has, not that his beard was ever particularly long.

At Lord Rickard’s side stands Brandon, readying himself for his speech. Brandon is but nineteen and yet there is a heavy shadow of a beard covering his cheeks and chin. He didn’t shave it off and it is left as a dark contrast to his pale skin – usually it is Lyanna who is pale but Brandon, since hearing of Lyesee’s death, hadn’t been completely himself, which was perfectly understandable, of course.

Beside them stands Lady Lyarra who wears black and grey – Flint colours, Lyanna knows that Lyarra’s mother was born of the leading mountain clan – and her hair is up in a tight bun, none of the faint grey strands show in her hair today. 

Something about her reminds Lyanna of the stories she read about the queens of winter and ice. Next to his mother is where Benjen stands wearing a dark cloak and in his slender fingers he holds a wreath of dark, dark blue flowers and white winter roses that were Lyesse’s favourites.

Being fourteen and not yet a man, Benjen has yet to grow into…well, _himself_ , what with his sprawling legs and skinny arms. But Lyanna is sure that he will be strong enough, one day. In contrast to Benjen is Ned, whose arm is around Ben’s wobbly shoulders in comfort. It is hard to believe Ned is only four years older with how much more mature he _does_ look – Ned has always been elder than his years, has always seemed cold and been distant but it is obvious now more than ever.

Lyanna knows that her family would wish her up with them but she didn’t think it proper nor did she think she would be able to stand up in front of the harsh, demanding, grieving Northerners without becoming nervous, and so she stands in the front row beside her Uncle Joren and cousin Vayon, who occasionally looks over at her to make sure she is alright. 

(Lyanna wishes all men were so kind as her cousin and wonders what life would be like for smallfolk and bastards if the powerful men were those such as Vayon.

Being the blood of a noble house but without the name she sees both side: some lords simply don’t care and others cannot handle the stress of their titles but it is the less fortunate folk who are hit hardest when lords are upset.)

Her father already made his speech, with his eyes watering only a little. Lady Lyarra too managed to get through hers without tears - no loud or visible ones anyway - and Lyanna is once again reminded of how strong the Lady of Winterfell is.

Brandon steps forwards and Lyanna is surprised to see his hair is combed. More often than not Brandon's looks, not just his hair, and his _everything_ were as wild and free as the wind. But not today - this day wasn't like any other. 

His speech is emotional and heartfelt and clearly it hurts him to speak through his pain, to talk of his sadness with all these people watching. It wins him favours though, Lyanna sees that when she looks around at the last lords and ladies who smile at him encouragingly and nod in understanding.

 _They care about you and are loyal,_ she wants to tell him, but instead she listens as Brandon comes to an end, his voice only barely shaking.

"Lyesse was brilliant and bold and dead before her due," Brandon says and, seeing he is finished, the crowd gathered in the godswood clap, cheer. Lady Lyarra puts a hand on his shoulders in a motherly way.

How Lyanna wishes for such affection now... Brandon's words truly moved her. She feels arms embrace her and once she pulls back, Lyanna smiles at Ned. _You cannot replace a mother,_ she thinks _, but brothers can be alright sometimes_. A lot of the time, actually.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm cruel :)


End file.
